


Hogwarts Nights: A Post-War AU

by Freya_Ishtar



Category: Harry Potter - J. K. Rowling
Genre: Angst, Drama, EWE, F/M, Humor, M/M, Multi, Mystery, Romance, Smut, Supernatural Creatures, Triad - Freeform, UST, canon-divergent, post-war AU
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2018-03-26
Updated: 2019-01-03
Packaged: 2019-04-08 06:05:21
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 3
Words: 9,501
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/14098893
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Freya_Ishtar/pseuds/Freya_Ishtar
Summary: Barely surviving the War, Remus' actions help end the stigma against 'monsters', causing Hogwarts to begin offering schooling to others similarly afflicted. Accepting Hermione as a teaching assistant to make things easier on himself, the put-upon werewolf only finds life more complicated when an unknown someone manages to draw Sirius' spirit back from beyond the Veil. *triad fic*





	1. The Long-Forgotten

**Author's Note:**

> 1) As stated in the title, this is a post-war AU. Major world changes: Ron died as a result of injuries incurred during the Golden Trio's escape from the Ministry, Remus (as suggested by the summary) survived the War.
> 
> 2) The premise of this fic is [loosely] inspired by my indulgence in manga (Vampire Knight) and dating simulation app games (Wizardess Heart), the first about a boarding school in which the Night Class students are vampires, the second about a magic school (much like Hogwarts) that, in later seasons, is revealed to have a Night Class for a select few students.
> 
> 3) This will be a triad fic.
> 
> 4) The idea of previously disused/unexplored portions of Hogwarts is something I've played with before in other stories. It may not have any canon backing, but . . . c'mon, it's a thousand year old castle that had a massive secret chamber that went undiscovered for nearly as long, it's not hard to imagine that not every nook and cranny was kept up to snuff all this time, especially if only a portion of the castle was necessary for schooling/housing purposes. Dahlia and William are the names I use for Hermione's parents.
> 
> FANCASTS: Tom Hiddleston as Remus Lupin; Jared Leto as Sirius Black; Idris Elba as Kingsley Shacklebolt. If they are not those characters to you, then I invite you to imagine them however you wish.
> 
> Disclaimer: I do not own Harry Potter, or any affiliated characters, and make no profit, in any form, from this work.

****

**Chapter One**

The Long-Forgotten

Hermione shook her head at herself as she made her way through the newly restored corridor. Why on earth had she accepted? Oh, right, because Remus had asked, and after the losses they'd both suffered, she couldn't find it in her heart to say no to him.

_"Remus?"_   _she said, a surprised half-grin playing on her lips. When her doorbell rang that late August evening, one of her friends from the Wizarding World was perhaps the last visitor she expected. She hadn't really spoken to anyone since the last of the funerals following the War, she hadn't even been certain whether or not she'd return to Hogwarts._

_So many of her friends were gone, or simply decided there was no more left for the school to teach them if they'd fought in—and_ survived _—the Second Wizarding War. She loved the magical part of her life as much as she ever had, but the loss of so many loved ones had simply highlighted the importance of family for her. Once she'd gotten her parents back, she_ knew  _she needed to spend time with them._

_"Hullo, Hermione, I'm sorry to show up unannounced. May I come in?"_

_"Oh, um, of course." She backpedaled, waving him inside. "How's Teddy?"_

_"Wonderful. Andromeda couldn't dote on him more if she tried."_

_After she closed the door behind him, she could hardly say she was surprised when he pulled her in for a long, comforting hug. She was ashamed to admit she'd forgotten just how good at giving hugs he was. She'd actually sort of missed this all these months in the Muggle world, and she'd not even realized it._

_"Hermione, darling, who was at the door?"_

_The witch was shocked that her mother's voice had snapped her back to reality—she'd not even noticed she was in a bit of a daze for a moment, there. Clearing her throat, she and Remus broke apart. She must be imagining the sheepish grin that curved his mouth as she turned to face the living room._

_"Sorry, Mum, it's um, one of my friends from Hogwarts." Immediately after these words fell from her lips, Hermione winced. That sounded odd, given their visible age difference._

_That very sentiment was reflected in her mother's face as the woman came out from the kitchen. "Friend from Hogwarts?" she echoed, propping her hands on her hips as she darted her gaze from her daughter to the_ grown man _beside her, and back._

_Hermione and Remus couldn't help but laugh as they both scrambled to explain the misunderstanding._

_After things were made clear, Dahlia Granger smiled and nodded. "Yes, I remember Hermione mentioning you. An old friend of Harry's parents, right?"_

_He nodded._

_"Well, it's last minute, but would you care to stay for dinner, Mr. Lupin?"_

_Remus' brows shot up as he looked from one woman to the other and back. "Actually, that would be lovely, thank you."_

_Dahlia nodded again and retreated to the kitchen. Hermione would pretend she didn't know there was now a hushed conversation going on between her parents—Mum and Dad loved to prepare dinner together, so thinking he hadn't been in the kitchen, listening from the other side of the door, was impossible._

_"Your mother seems awfully calm about having a werewolf in the house."_

_Pivoting on her heel to face Remus with wide eyes, she shrugged. "That's probably because I haven't told them werewolves are real? Witches and wizards are typically as much as most Muggles can handle."_

_"Well, then I suppose I'll have to adjust my pitch."_

_"Pitch?" Hermione arched a brow. "Are you selling something?"_

_"Not exactly. I think perhaps, though, your parents would want to have input on this, so maybe we'll discuss it over dinner."_

_She didn't like being put off like that, but if it was that important to him, she wasn't going to argue. They made small talk as they waited, catching up with each other. She avoided mentioning Tonks, he avoided mentioning Ron. Yes, it had been months, and though those wounds were healing, they were still awkward topics of conversation, and Remus was nothing if not sensitive to the pain of others._

_Once they were seated around the dinner table, food served and glasses filled, Hermione could no longer stop herself. "So, what is this pitch?"_

_Dahlia and William exchanged a glance at their daughter's question. Remus, quite frankly, found himself a little unsettled to find all three of them staring at him. "Well, I suppose you know Hermione has yet to make a decision about returning to Hogwarts?"_

_Dahlia frowned. "Yes, well, after last year's tragedies, you can hardly blame her, can you?"_

_"No, no, I don't blame her at all, however . . . ." Remus' face scrunched and he clasped his hands above his plate. "I have been offered a new teaching position at Hogwarts, and though Hermione might be too far advanced now to find returning as a student fulfilling, I was hoping she might agree to return as my assistant."_

_Again, her parents shared a look, though this time they turned their attention to Hermione. She was staring at Remus wide-eyed and unblinking. "You want me to be your teaching assistant? Is Professor McGonagall aware of this?"_

_"It was her idea."_

_Hermione's brow furrowed. She wanted, desperately, to say yes. She wanted to return to Hogwarts—she very much still thought of it as home—she wanted to share her knowledge with younger witches and wizards, but she wasn't certain she_ could.

_Before she was able to answer, however, her mother piped up. "I think it's a fantastic opportunity for you, and you should take it."_

_"Oh, Mum, I don't know."_

_"You've been miserable these last few months," William said, frowning thoughtfully as he shook his head. "I know you think you've hidden it well, and we've loved having you home, but you miss being there, we know you do."_

_"Wait, so if I_ want _to go . . . ."_

_Dahlia smiled warmly. "We'd miss you like mad, of course, but we'd understand."_

_It wasn't until after dinner, though Hermione'd yet to give him a firm answer, that Remus disclosed to her the full circumstances of his reinstatement and her job offer. As she walked him out onto the porch, he turned to face her, preempting her questions._

_"My efforts in both Wizarding Wars were recognized, and have forced the Ministry's hand in . . . reexamining their position on children with magical maladies. Though it's acknowledged that it would be too soon to introduce them into the general population of students at Hogwarts, it is_  also _acknowledged that they deserve a chance at a proper education just as much."_

_As refreshing as that was for Hermione to hear, she had to ask, "What does this all mean, exactly?" He'd just told her quite a bit of information, but none of it actually shed light on what was to happen next._

_"Well, obviously, mine was the first name that came up in regard to teaching when talk of these classes arose." Remus' brows pinched, and he looked off into the street. "The disused sections of the castle, previously inaccessible to both students and faculty, have been restored for use by the . . . Night Class."_

_Her eyebrows shot up. "Night Class?"_

_He brought his gaze back to hers, shrugging. "Those with magical maladies are predominantly nocturnal by nature. Why'd you think I have such trouble staying awake during the day?"_

_Although he said it with a smile, she immediately understood that he was serious. "Of course. I can't believe that never occurred to me. Wolves_  are  _nighttime hunters, aren't they?"_

_Remus nodded. "I knew you'd catch on. That's why you're being offered this position. These students don't just need teachers who understand their struggles. They need to see humans—normal witches and wizards—who are compassionate toward what they're going through, who are willing to accept them as they are."_

_Her shoulders slumped as she frowned up at him. "You're making it_ really _hard to say no."_

_Snickering, he pulled her in for a parting hug. "Then don't say no," he whispered._

_She ignored that something felt different between them in that moment. Surely, it was her imagination that he held her just a few heartbeats longer . . . ._

_Just her imagination that a flood of warmth rushed into her cheeks at his breath against her ear as he'd whispered those words._

She gave herself a shake and continued along toward where Headmistress McGonagall had said her new quarters were. Just as she'd told herself, her decision to take the job was on account of their friendship, and because there were children who needed her, nothing  _at all_  to do with what she might, or might not, have felt in that moment on her parents' porch.

Though, she had to say she did enjoy the decidedly more Medieval architecture of these older sections of the castle—yes, yes, Hogwarts, entirely, was a thousands years old, but the portions in constant use were regularly repaired, and thus updated by sheer happenstance of newer, better refined rebuilding charms. These sections here had been restored to a like-new version of their original splendor.

Just as she'd felt her first time setting foot in Hogwarts as a child raised in the Muggle world, Hermione very much had a sense just now that she had entered a different age, entirely.

Stopping outside her door in the teacher's wing, she looked down, tipping Crookshanks' cage enough that she could meet the gaze of her loyal Kneazle-cat. "Here we go," she whispered with a smile.

The feline simply looked up at her, his eyes impossibly large. She imagined if he were human, he'd be pouting at her. This beast, with his so-ugly-its-cute face, only made expressions like this when no else was about. She knew he was less than pleased at being in the older portion of the castle, being so sensitive to spirits and otherworldly phenomena.

She met his pleading look with one of her own as she grasped the door's antique handle and pulled. "Now, you stop. You know you're going to get used to—"

"Hermione?"

Freezing at Remus' voice—his notably surprised voice—calling her name, she looked up. There, in the middle of the room she'd just thrown open the door to, stood Remus Lupin . . . a towel slung around his hips and another over his head. She denied that the notice of droplets beading his skin had her forcing a gulp down her throat.

And there was certainly no flush of warmth in her face because of it, either. No, absolutely not!

"I . . . I was . . . . I'm sorry, my—my room, um . . . ." Oh, goodness, how embarrassing, it seemed she'd forgotten how to speak! Marshalling her focus as best she could while she and this, this . . . dripping wet, naked aside from rightly-placed towels Remus stared wide-eyed at one another, she forced out the words. "I could've sworn this was the room Professor McGonagall said was mine."

He shook his head, and she could swear it looked like he forced a gulp of his own before he could answer. "Third door on the  _left_  is yours, Hermione. You're across the corridor."

"Right, right, I mean, obvious this isn't—isn't my room if you're . . . if you're in it, so I'll just . . . ." She couldn't even finish her sentence, shutting the door between them.

Remus blinked, darting his gaze about the room for a few heartbeats as he listened. It seemed a moment passed before he heard her footfalls finally cross to the proper door. As though she'd needed a minute before she could make herself move.

He tried to put the way she'd just looked at him out of him head as he returned to toweling off. That included pretending he didn't feel the half-smile curving his lips.

* * *

"For the last time, it's really okay," he said with a chuckle, "it was an honest mistake."

Classes were due to start tomorrow at nine, after the Night Class students had their breakfast, and though Hermione was assisting Remus to set up his classroom in preparation, he couldn't help but notice her reticence. Hermione was many things . . .  _not_ -chatty wasn't among them.

When he'd asked about the reason for her silence, she hurried, stumbling over her words, as she explained how mortified she about the wrong room incident.

"I just felt so stupid. It's not like me to misremember such a simple detail."

Setting down the texts he'd been carrying to the impossibly wide bookcase at the back of the room, he turned to face her. Crossing the floor to stand before her, he asked, "Hermione, you and I are friends, aren't we?"

She nodded, immediately darting her gaze up to meet his. Dear Merlin, this woman had to stop giving him surprised looks with those already large chestnut-colored eyes of hers, it was really in danger of causing thoughts that had precious little to do with friendship skittering through his head.

"Of course we are!"

He fought hard not to let a small smile grace his lips—fought and lost—as he answered, "And friends forgive one another for being stupid."

"Oh, you." She pursed her lips, trying for a displeased expression, but ended up laughing. He was poking fun at her, but she supposed she deserved it.

Remus knew he shouldn't say what he was thinking as she turned back to her current task of sorting jars in the cupboard of potions ingredients, but he couldn't help himself. Some part of him was wildly—if not wholly appropriately—curious to see her reaction.

"If it will make you feel better, I could always put us on equal footing, again, by walking in on you when you've just stepped from the bath."

_Crash._

His brows shot up at sound. All right, letting one of the jars slip from her grasp was unexpected.

Once more wide-eyed, she turned her head to look at him. When she remained silent, he cleared his throat awkwardly and nodded. "Right, let me help you with that." With a flick of his wand to clean up the mess, he rushed to help her put the rest of the jars away.

"That was unfair of you," she scolded, her tone so low, he barely heard it.

He frowned, knowing she was right. Hermione Granger had grown into a young woman, yes, but she clearly did not see him _that_  way—strange that this was a moment that made him miss Sirius. Their departed friend, with his irreverence and the strange edge of mild flirtation he'd managed to put on pretty much everything.

He was  _no_ Sirius Black, and he should realize after her embarrassment over her mistake that teasing her further was bound to upset her.

"It's fine, Remus." Shaking her head, she forced a smile. God, he really didn't realize why she was bothered by this whole mess, did he?  _Of course not, Hermione, you're still a child to him_. She wondered if he was even aware her nineteenth birthday was in a few weeks. Probably wouldn't matter, anyway.

She nearly jumped out of her skin at the feel of his fingertips brushing the side of her throat, then.

Blinking up at him, she noticed he was not looking at her face, but at the sweep of his hand across her neck. "Sorry, some of the thistle powder got on you."

"Oh." That single sound was all she could manage in response, aware he must not realize what the stroking of his fingers along the pulse below her ear was doing to her.

This was madness! He was her friend and her former teacher—and a  _widower_ , and a father, and the list of wrongness could go on and on—why was she suddenly so, so . . .  _giddy_ about being close to him like this?

He must've noticed there was something different in the way she was looking at him, she realized, because his hand stilled in the air, hovering against her skin as he met her gaze.

Oh, sweet Merlin! She  _knew_  she wasn't imagining the way his gaze searched her face, just now.

It seemed they were both trying to open their mouths to speak at the same time, both lacking for what, exactly to say. Now— _now_ —she didn't know if she was imagining that his face might be drifting closer to hers.

A distinct popping sound at the other end of the room cut into the moment, and they both jumped a little. Turning to face the sound, they found a scroll had appeared atop the teacher's desk.

Biting hard into his bottom lip, Remus gave himself a shake. He couldn't look at her just now, not while being so uncertain what that had just been between them. Crossing the floor, he snatched up the scroll and unfurled it.

Furrowing his brow as he read it over, he turned his attention to Hermione. "Minerva's relaying a summons from Kingsley to report to the Ministry,  _immediately_."

"A summons from . . . ? All right, I suppose I can finish up for you here. There's not much more to—"

"No, Hermione. It's for both of us." Remus walked over to her, once more, handing her the scroll so she could see for herself. "He needs to show us something in the Department of Mysteries."

After a quiet moment, she said in a low, puzzled tone, "Something we won't believe until we see it? What on earth could that be?"

"Your guess is as good as mine."

* * *

When the very confused—and mildly frightened—pair arrived at the Ministry, they were even more confused to find the Minster awaiting them in the grand foyer. "Good," Kingsley said, the moment he caught sight of them. "C'mon, this way."

Hermione decided to refrain from mentioning that they knew the way to the Department of Mysteries perfectly well on their own. Instead, she fell into step with Remus as they trailed, respectfully but at a quick pace, behind Minister Shacklebolt.

They'd walked in silence for some time, only when they entered the DoM did Kingsley begin to speak. His voice, low though it was, echoed unnervingly in the vast chamber; the effect seemed unnatural for how cluttered the space was with shelves and artifacts.

"This is something . . . wholly unprecedented. You must understand, we can't find  _any_  documentation on such an occurrence happening before, nor do we have any idea if this is some fluke of magic, or if some _one_  is responsible."

Hermione and Remus both paused as they realized their destination. Eyeing the entryway that led to that horrible place, they exchanged a glance.

"Kings—Minister Shacklebolt, what _exactly_  are we doing here?"

Kingsley's massive shoulders drooped as he opened the door and started down the winding staircase, at the base of which was the unexplainable artifact that had brought them so much heartache barely two years past. When he realized they would not follow until he answered, he sighed, halting on the top step and looking back at them.

"He refuses to leave this room until he's assured he's safe by faces he trusts. I don't fit the bill because we hadn't known one another very well."

" _He_?" Hermione and Remus echoed the word in the same breath.

Kingsley nodded. Then, appearing to think better, he stepped out of the door and waved for them to go on ahead.

Hermione wasn't certain what to do. She dropped her gaze to the floor, not really believing her own ears—not believing who she thought must be down there. She wanted to go look, but didn't know if she could even will her legs to move, just now.

But then, she felt the warm, sure grasp of a hand around hers. Startled, she looked up. Remus was watching her face, his expression both serene and understanding in that way that only he could manage.

Nodding, she squeezed her fingers around his and they started down the steps, side by side.

Remus knew exactly what he was seeing as they descended the staircase and a hunched figure, draped in a blanket came into view. He understood there was no other person that could be as his gaze traced over the head of long jet hair.

He fought against the lump forming in his throat. This was truly a moment he  _never_  thought would happen.

As they reached the foot of the steps, however, the figure had yet to move. He didn't even seem to acknowledge that other people had entered the chamber. That dreaded archway seemed to claim his focus.

Remus opened his mouth to speak, but his voice caught in his throat.

Hermione stepped forward, her hand still in Remus'. "Sirius?"

The figure jumped at his name—at the familiar voice—and he spun on his heel.

They stared back at him, wide-eyed. He looked exactly as he had the moment he'd fallen through. His confused gaze leapt from Hermione to Remus, and back.

"It's true then? It's been years since I—"

"Yes. Two years, nearly." Hermione nodded, aware that though she still looked like herself, she was clearly no longer the sixteen year old child he'd last seen. "The War's won. There's so much to catch up on. We never . . . we never thought—"

This time, it was Sirius who cut her off by rushing forward and throwing his arms around both of them. "Thank Merlin! I thought I'd gone mad!"

At last, Remus was able to speak as he returned his long-lost friend's embrace. "Wouldn't be the first time."

Hermione snickered, though the sound was as tearful as it was joyful, while Sirius said, "Oh, shut up, you! Where's Harry?"

"Harry's unfortunately indisposed—a special Auror training program hosted in Swansea, but word has been sent to him," Kingsley informed the still mildly-disoriented man as he came to the bottom of the stairs. "I've discussed Sirius' situation with Minerva. We've agreed that perhaps it's best he be tended to in the privacy of Hogwarts. Poppy is quite the capable Medi-witch, she'll be able to properly diagnose any issues he may have following his ordeal."

Hermione frowned, pulling away from the tangle of their hug to face the Minister. "Hogwarts? But why not—?"

"At this moment, until we can better understand, and define, his condition . . . ." Kingsley sighed as he met each of their gazes, in turn. "He is considered, well, a Revenant."

"So he's—technically—a magical creature?"

"That's the problem, I'm not entirely certain. No one is, but at the very least, he currently falls into the category of having a magical malady." The Minister shrugged as he replied to Hermione's question. "The Wizarding world will not be comfortable with his return, unless—"

Remus nodded. "Unless he's someplace that has been adapted to suit such beings."

"I'm sorry, I know it's not what you hoped to hear, but—"

"No, no." Sirius threw off the blanket and tossed his arms around Hermione and Remus' shoulders, starting to rush them up the staircase. "Hogwarts is  _good_ , perfect. Love Hogwarts. Let's get out of here. I  _hate_  that bloody Arch"

Though, he knew this whole mess was a bit unorthodox, the initial medical examination of Sirius showed he  _was_  in perfect health. He didn't seem aware of the passing of any time since falling through the Arch. Nor could he shed any light on how he'd come back, so keeping him seemed to serve little purpose.

"I've sent the necessary paperwork ahead to Minerva," he called after them. Really, he just wanted this out of his hands.

"Necessary paperwork?" Hermione asked in a hushed tone as they reached the top of the steps.

Sirius gave a lopsided grin. "Oh, yes, that you're taking custody of an otherwise undefined supernatural creature."

Hermione and Remus exchanged a glance around Sirius. "So, we're responsible for you?" The witch asked, unable to help laughing at the prospect.

"Fantastic," Remus said with a shake of his head as they made their way out to a place from which they could safely Apparrate back to the boundary of Hogwarts' castle grounds.

"Again, shut up, you."

* * *

"He really does seem to be in perfect health," Poppy said in conversation with Minerva, Hermione, and Remus, later that same night following her own in-depth examination of the mysteriously-returned wizard. "I'd like to continue to monitor him, however. I want him back here once every forty-eight hours for follow-up exams."

"Oh, Poppy, you flirt," Sirius said with a grin and a wink.

Minerva and Poppy both rolled their eyes. Hermione wondered if this was the sort of nonsense they'd put up with when he'd been a student.

"Remus, he'll be sharing your room for the time being. Though, we don't have a post open, currently, I'm sure we'll find something to make him useful while he's here." That was Minerva's final word on the matter.

"I still can't believe it," Sirius said, his head shaking as he turned his attention to Hermione. He held his hand out to her.

Unable to stop a smile from curving her lips—the sparkle in his blue-grey eyes was something she wasn't sure she'd appreciated when she was younger—she stepped closer, resting her fingers over his.

"You've gotten so  _old_!"

Remus and the elder witches all burst out laughing as Hermione uttered a scoffing sound and tried to pull away. Chuckling, as well, Sirius closed his hand around hers and pulled the young woman in for a hug.

"You're terrible," she said, giving into a laugh, as well, though she turned in Sirius' arms to be able to face the room.

The dark-haired wizard could only agree with her. "Oh, I'm awful. You've really no idea."

Remus cleared his throat, ignoring the strange twinge that went through him at seeing Hermione and Sirius more or less wrapped around one another. "Okay, walk us through this. How did you come back? Hermione and I were  _there_. We saw you fall through the Arch."

"That's the thing, I don't really remember." Sirius rested his chin over Hermione's shoulder as he held Remus' gaze. "It was sort of like I was sleeping—like I was dreaming, everything was fuzzy, I couldn't really make sense of anything. I remember falling through the Arch, I remember everyone shouting . . . and then there was this fuzzy nothingness. I didn't mention it to Shacklebolt, because—at the time—I thought maybe I'd imagined it, but I could swear someone was calling to me. Then, I awoke outside the Arch, but I was alone. I  _really_  thought there'd been someone else there, but when I looked about, the entire chamber was empty."

"Someone  _called_  to you?" Hermione shook her head, shifting enough to be able to look at Sirius' face. "So . . . your saying someone pulled you from the Arch?"

She could feel the movement against her as he shrugged. "Seems so. I can't explain it otherwise," he said, frowning.

Hermione couldn't help but place her arms over Sirius' just then, suddenly worried for, well, everyone, really. "If there's someone out there with the power to do that . . . . What does that mean?"

Remus swallowed hard, but shook his head, clearly thinking the same question. Poppy looked at a loss for words, and Minerva wore an expression that was a cross between fretting and angry at her own inability to answer.

"I've no idea," the Headmistress said in a low, grave voice.


	2. After the Veil

**Chapter Two**

After the Veil

Hermione felt terrible for the elder witches after the initial rush of adrenaline caused by the revelations during Sirius' examination. The late hour the three of them had returned from the Ministry certainly worked toward their own hours in handling the Night Class, but Poppy and Minerva were still intended to function at their normal capacity when daylight broke. They both looked about ten years older than they truly were by the time they dragged themselves off to get back to sleep.

The disturbing information they'd gleaned would be researched at the soonest available opportunity, they'd all decided. Even if that meant using free time in their individual schedules to consult whatever information might be in the library. She'd been more than aware this was decided for _her_  benefit, as everyone expected her to slink off to that very place the first chance she got, anyway.

Sirius assisted Hermione and Remus with finishing up in the classroom—as she'd heard it, there were not nearly as many children afflicted with Magical Maladies, or who were defined as magical creatures, as there were _normal_ wizarding children. The first few weeks were to serve as a primer, the children all collected into a single, larger class. When the faculty serving the Night Class deemed the students ready, they would be broken up into smaller groups based not age, but on their ability to process the information their lessons would contain.

She'd yet to meet the other three teachers, but she considered the unorthodox handling of setting up their classes a step in the right direction. Age did not dictate an inherent capacity to grasp new educational materials, and she was frankly a little relieved for the forethought—it would alleviate some of the stresses the new students would no doubt be under, coming to a place where they still might not feel welcome despite the faculty's best efforts.

As they worked, Remus and Hermione filled Sirius in on all that he'd missed. Though he was saddened, but not terribly surprised, that so many had been lost—war was war, after all—he injected a bit of levity as he wondered aloud if Fred might not be palling around with Peeves, now.

By the time they had finished, and all grabbed a bite from the kitchens, the sun was coming up. Between the long night, and an enchantment on the windows that blocked daylight unless otherwise directly commanded by the rooms' assigned occupant—another bit of forethought, so no mean-spirited person could harm a vampire child by banishing the enchantment and exposing them to the sun's rays—Hermione realized she hadn't needed to worry too much about adjusting to her new schedule. She was so tired now, she felt sure a marching band could stomp through the corridor and it wouldn't stop her from drifting to sleep.

Unfortunately, it was  _as_  she was drifting to sleep that her mind, with nothing better to do, began to pick over the things which had happened between herself and Remus earlier that evening. She didn't want to think back on the way he'd looked when she'd walked in on him in that towel. Wanted even less to consider what could've happened had they not been interrupted by that message from Professor McGonagall.

Not that she was unhappy about the message, itself, given that it had led them to the Ministry to find Sirius, but the timing could have been better.

Squeezing her eyes shut in the false twilight of her room, she pressed her cheek more firmly against her pillow. To distract herself, and nudge sleep to overtake her, she played a little reverse psychology game she'd learned as a child.

Hermione told herself she was absolutely  _not_ tired! No! She could get up right now and go run a million errands before noon!

And—as had happened since she was a child, which was why she still used this trick—she felt herself drifting off, once more. And, once more, those thoughts of water-dappled skin and lips drawing closer to hers flitted through her sleepy mind.

* * *

Sirius snapped awake, holding in a sigh. He turned onto his side . . . only to find his body had not moved with him. Bolting upright, he looked down at himself.

_He_  was a mass of silver-blue wisps that resembled his physical form, but his body still lay flat against the mattress. Swallowing hard, he turned wide eyes on his own sleeping face. He could see the disconcerting rise and fall of his own chest. Okay, okay. His body was breathing, he looked like he was . . . peacefully in slumber.

Climbing out of bed—each move ginger, as he hadn't the faintest clue what to expect from this—he looked down to his hands, flexing the wispy fingers, and then back to his body on the bed. Was . . . was this just what happened to him now when he slept? Or perhaps when he dreamed! He had no idea, after all, this was his first time falling asleep since escaping the Veil. If this was now his natural state, logic dictated this ephemeral bit of him would snap back into his body when it started waking up.

That meant he had a few hours on his hands . . . .

Glancing across the room to the other bed, he saw Remus dozing peacefully. Well, no reason to disturb him.

A smirk curving his lips, Sirius started for the door. Time to see what sort of mischief he could get up to while everyone else in this portion of the castle was fast asleep.

He slipped through the door and was about to start along the corridor when he heard a very curious sound from the door on the opposite side. Oh, no. That could not be what it had just sounded like. Not from sweet little Hermione.

A mischievous grin curving his lips, Sirius crept closer to the witch's door. He leaned close, intent on listening in . . . . But totally underestimated his own balance in this bizarre new form of his, and went tumbling through the surface of the thick, ancient wood to tumble out on the other side.

He'd always wondered how spirits, ghosts, and other non-corporeal beings managed to not fall through a floor, yet had no issue simply going through walls and closed doors . . . . Yet, now that he was one such being, he didn't bother with wondering anything of the sort, only grateful it didn't hurt when he landed rather unceremoniously on his face, his bum in the air like some daft character in a comically bad stage production.

Holding in a sigh, Sirius picked himself up, going through the motions of dusting himself off out of sheer force of habit. Immediately realizing the futility of it, he dropped his hands to his sides and rolled his eyes at the gesture.

But that sound came again . . . . Nearly startling him in how close it was.  _Of course it's close, you twit. You just_ fell _into the woman's room!_ Biting hard into his lip, he pivoted on his heel to face the source of those tempting little noises.

Hermione was shifting beneath her covers, a blissful expression on her sleeping face as she uttered yet another small, mewling moan.

"Okay, Sirius," he said to himself in a whisper, "now that you've  _completely_  invaded her privacy, you should probably go. Right." He nodded.

And, after another moment, he finally willed himself to turn away and start for the nearest wall. Yet, just as he was about to vanish through it back out into the corridor, he heard her say . . . something? A name that ended in an  _us_  sound.

But with how low her voice was, he couldn't make out more than that.

Curious, he whirled around to face the sleeping witch, once more. He knew he should leave her to her private thoughts, it wasn't any of his damn business if she was making such intriguing noises because of something she was dreaming about either Rem _us_  or Siri _us_.

_You should respect her privacy_ , a little voice—that sounded remarkably like Remus in one of his stuffier moments—scolded in the back of his mind. Sirius knew the voice was right, of course. He should turn right back 'round and leave her be.

Oh, so why the bloody hell was he walking toward her, instead?

She mumbled again, but still that first syllable was unintelligible. Frowning, and once more forgetting the one rather glaring issue with his new form, he reached out to sweep away the hair that had fallen across her face.

Though his fingers went right through the wild tangle of her locks as though they weren't there, his skin came into contact with hers. He had no way to brace himself for the sudden rush of images and sensations that flooded from her to him at that touch.

* * *

_"Oh, God, Remus," she said in a moaning whisper_   _as she clung to him._

_His voice was deliciously low and rumbling in her ear as he chuckled. "Shhh, you're almost there. Just a little further, yeah?"_

_Nodding, she lifted her hips, rocking herself against his thrusts. She tried to hold back another moan as he all but drove her into the wall at her back. Hermione bit down on the side of his throat, loving the little growl he uttered at the gesture. He was still damp from shower, and she delighted in lapping the droplets from his skin, even as her body tensed._

_She bit down a bit harder, concerned she might actually draw blood even as she started to—_

* * *

Sirius yanked back his hand, coughing out a surprised sound as he fell back, hitting the floor on his bum.

The noise tore Hermione from sleep and she bolted upright, stopping just short of letting out a shout of her own. Catching her breath in frantic gulps of air, she looked about the room for the source. She patted the back of her hand against her forehead. Oh, a sweat . . . and not a cold one, either . . . that dream was—

And then she did let out a shocked cry at the sight of a ghostly Sirius Black staring up at her from her bedroom floor in bewilderment.

_How . . . ? Wait, what?_  She couldn't seem to put her own thoughts together. Right at the end, there, as Remus—well, the dream version of him, of course, because what she'd just dreamed was probably never going to happen—was bringing her to orgasm, a fleeting thought of Sirius had zipped across her mind. And there'd been a quick shock of sensation that had intensified what she was already feeling, she recalled that  _quite_ clearly.

What the bloody hell was going on?

"Sirius," she demanded in a hissing whisper. "What happened to you?"

He climbed to his feet and held up his hands. "I'm fine. Okay? My body is asleep, and I guess this is just a thing Revenants  _do_  when their bodies rest."

Even dazed and still half-asleep, she couldn't stop her mind from leaping on his statement. "Well, you're only technically a Revenant, we've still got a lot of research to do on how to actually properly classify you. However, this ability to slip from your body when you're sleeping should help to narrow the search—"

"Hermione,  _love_? Merlin's beard, you're not even awake yet and listen to you!"

She winced, fighting a sudden yawn at the reminder. "You're right, I'm sorry. Wait, why the bloody hell am I apologizing? Sirius, what're you doing in my room while I'm sleeping, anyway?"

He frowned, unable to hold her gaze as he explained. "Well, I thought I'd go exploring like this, and then I heard you making noises in here, so I tried to listen and find out what was going when you should be sleeping. Next thing I know I fell through the wall, and well, here we are." It was sort of  _mostly_ true.

"I was making noise . . . ." Hermione swallowed hard. "What sort of noises?"

"Um . . . ."

She clamped her hands over her mouth, stifling a gasp. "Oh, God. You heard me!"

He shrugged, an awkward expression on his face. "In my defense, it became hard not to listen after you said a name."

"Oh, no, no, no!" The witch dropped her hands into her lap and looked at him with pleading eyes. "You're not going to tell him, are you? Please! I know it's not literally possible, but I do believe I  _would_  die of embarrassment."

Without thought, he sat on the edge of the bed and reached toward her. As he rested his hands over hers, however, another sweet, tingling zip like earlier went through them, both.

Her brow furrowed as he snatched back his hands, his eyes wide.

"You . . . you touched me when I was sleeping, didn't you?"

Sirius nodded. "I didn't mean to, it was an accident. When I did, I saw . . . . Look, I promise I won't tell him. But . . . ." He waited until she met his gaze before going on. "If you've got feelings for Remus, and I mean, _more_ than 'him shagging you up against a wall' feelings, shouldn't  _you_  tell him?"

She shook her head, frowning in thought. "I wouldn't even know where to begin. First, I'm not even sure what I feel. Second, there's so much going on right now, I wouldn't want to add to his stress. Third . . . ." Hermione couldn't help herself—she supposed it was part researcher, part young woman in long overdue need of physical attention—she hurried to force out the words before she lost her nerve. "What _is_  that that happens when you touch me?"

He looked down at his fingertips as he spoke, "I really don't know. I know when you were dreaming, I was able to feel what you were feeling, so I thought maybe it was just that, at first, but now . . . ?"

Holding her hand toward him, she said, "Do it again."

He arched a brow at her suggestion. "Will this help in your research?"

Before she could think to stop herself, the truth was tumbling from her lips. "Probably, but that's not why I'm asking. Do it again, and think of something . . . inappropriate."

Now, both his eyebrows shot up his forehead, but the mischievous side of him liked where she was going with this. "Is  _this_  for research?"

"Actually, yes. Going to see if the thought-transfer goes both ways." She wiggled her fingers in a show of impatience.

Nodding, Sirius gave himself a moment to call to mind a scenario inappropriate enough for his liking. He tried to hold back a smirk, but failed as he stroked his fingertips along the palm of her waiting hand.

Her eyes drifted closed of their own volition . . . . She felt as though she was laying back . . . . There was the brush of his lips against her inner thigh as he dragged his mouth higher. The impression of his fingers parting her, delicate and teasing. Squirming in an effort to get closer to him, she looked down, meeting his blue-grey gaze as he buried his mouth against her.

It all seemed so real that when he dropped his hand from hers, she snapped open her eyes and lowered her gaze into her lap, as though expecting to find that he'd actually stuck his head between her legs.

"I see from your reaction that it does go both ways."

"That, was, um . . . ." She swallowed hard and nodded. " _Very_  imaginative of you, Sirius."

"Actually, not terribly so," he admitted as he stood from the bed and started toward the door, or one of the walls. Whichever he fell through, first.

"Not terribly—" She cut herself off as she watched his strangely beautiful form drift across the room. "Does that mean what I think it does?"

With that familiar wicked smirk of his—the one she'd not seen in so long, and that she'd certainly never thought she'd see directed at her in a moment like this—he said, "Ask me when I'm back in my body."

And like that, he was gone.

She tried to will her own body to calm itself. Not easy when Sirius Black had literally left her with soaked knickers over the simple touch of his hand against hers. It wasn't only the feelings coursing through her during that moment—or the sweet little tremors that accompanied recalling it.

It was what he'd said. If he wasn't being imaginative with what he'd thought up, that meant it hadn't taken that much effort. Which either indicated that he was simply sordid like that all the time, which she didn't doubt in the slightest . . . .

Or that he didn't have trouble imagining doing such a thing with her.

With a miserable groan, she fell back against her pillow and pulled her covers up over her head.

Once more, she tried to will herself to go back to sleep, even with all these wildly curious thoughts raging through her head. The sooner she got back to sleep, the sooner the day would be gone and Sirius would be back in his body.

And the sooner she could ask him which it was.


	3. The Trouble with Sirius

**Chapter Three**

The Trouble with Sirius

Hermione thought her biggest shock at 'breakfast' that evening—which took place shortly after the human portion of the school's welcome feast, allowing Professor McGonagall to attend both meals and give her start of year speech—was that as she looked about the smaller dining hall, she noticed the students weren't simply those with magical maladies. Some appeared to be genuine magical creatures. Or, at least, they were human-magical creature hybrids.

She was relatively certain that had been mentioned to her at some point, yet it was not until she was there, her gaze moving over the comparatively manageable number of students—perhaps fifty, in all?—that it sank in. The vampires were plainly obvious, as they didn't touch the food, only sipping dark crimson liquid from the goblets before them. The werewolves were not so obvious, but she thought the ones who looked tired and bore scars that could well be from claws were the most likely victims of the lycanthropy curse.

Then there were the _interesting_  ones. The girl with the horns curling gracefully over the back of her head, and the boy with the shimmery light around him—no doubt one of his parents was some sort of fairy, and she had satyr blood. Everywhere she looked, she had to remind herself not to stare. She found them all so interesting, but knew how easy it would be for the children to misunderstand her scrutiny and start feeling self-conscious.

No, no. The shock was to find that her seat at the faculty table was between Remus and Sirius. Though, she supposed given that she was Remus' teaching assistant, and they were both legally responsible for Sirius while the issue of his state of being was sorted, it made sense. Yet, after her dream about Remus earlier that day, and that steamy little thought transfer experiment with Sirius, she thought it was no wonder at all that she'd feel on edge seated between them.

Had Sirius told Remus about the abilities he'd uncovered?

And then, of course, there was the way he'd told her to ask him about what he'd imagined when they saw one another after they woke up. Those words couldn't help but keep her acutely aware of Sirius' attention flickering to her face every few moments.

After Professor McGonagall finished welcoming the new students—no Houses for the Night Class, unity and building trust between the smaller, nocturnal student body, as a whole, was more important, she'd declared, than the tradition of sorting, and if _they_  decided they wanted Houses when they felt comfortable and settled, they simply needed to ask—and introducing the faculty, she granted the teachers a tired grin and bid the room good night. As happened with the feast in the Great Hall, the room erupted into conversation nearly the moment she stepped down from the podium.

Which only made Hermione more aware of her place at the table. Because there was silence between the three of them. Looking over at Remus, who offered her an awkward grin—oh, dear, he was remembering that little almost-moment they'd had before they'd been summoned by Kingsley, wasn't he?—she then darted her gaze toward Sirius. The dark-haired wizard was now focused on eating his food, though she could tell he somehow sensed her attention on him, because a wicked smirk curved his lips as he ate.

She was about to lean over and ask Sirius in a whisper if he'd shared any . . . well,  _shareable_  information from last night with Remus, but Remus spoke up then. Quick save, too, she realized—though he couldn't have known that, as she wasn't sure how she'd explain knowing about Sirius' new abilities without bringing up his trip to her room. And she had no idea how Remus would feel about that entire scenario . . . .

Oh, dear sweet Lord. The first night of school wasn't even fully underway and she was already in a mess.

"There's been an interesting development with Sirius's state," the werewolf said before pausing to take a sip of his coffee. "I've written up a short list, if you think you could spare some time to run to the library between classes and handle a bit of research?"

Turning her head, she met Remus' leaf-green gaze. "Sure." Immediately, she realized that the pretense was nothing more than a form of lying to him. And she didn't want to lie to him. Her shoulders slumping, she said, "Remus, listen—"

"She already knows, Moony." Sirius shrugged, speaking around a mouthful of food.

Hermione winced as the werewolf's brows shot up. "You do?"

Burying her face in her hands, she groaned.

"Was a bit of an embarrassing situation. I sort of fell into her room, scared the bejeezus out of both of us."

While that was a dramatically shortened version of events, it was the basics of what had happened. Nodding she lifted her head from her hands, only to have Remus target her with another mystified look.

"I'm still not certain why you didn't mention this straight away. It's a pretty startling development."

Her shoulders slumped. She shook her head, and imploring gleam in her eyes. "I'm sorry I didn't mention it, Remus. I—"

"I think she was worried what you'd think if you found out some other bloke was in her room in the middle of the night—well, _day_."

Caught entirely off-guard by Sirius' blurted statement, she couldn't stop her eyes from shooting wide as she stared back at Remus. And she certainly couldn't do a bloody thing about the bloom of color flaring in her cheeks.

Sirius' words, combined with her reaction, spoke volumes and she knew it.

Swallowing hard, she managed to tear her gaze from Remus'. Shifting in her seat to face Sirius, she asked, "A word, if you would, Sirius?" Glancing at Remus over her shoulder, she offered a tight smile and crinkled the bridge of her nose at him. "'Scuse us a moment, please."

Anger twisting her features, she shot up from her seat and retreated to a far corner of the dining hall, ducking behind a pillar so Remus would not be able to read her expression; indeed, the placement seemed to block any view of the entire room. Unfortunately, Sirius' mirthful countenance somehow managed to be visible even if one was looking at the back of his damned head, and he stood so that the pillar did not fully conceal him.

Trailing after her, he waited until the witch spun on her heel to face him before he asked, "Problem?"

She blinked rapidly a few times. "Problem? Are you joking right now? Yes, of course there's a bloody problem! You promised me you wouldn't tell Remus, so what the hell was that just now?"

"Ah." Nodding, Sirius held up his finger. "I promised you I would not tell him about the dream you'd had about him. And I'm not really 'telling' him anything, anyway, I'm hinting. Laying the groundwork for you to be able to open up to him about how you feel."

Her shoulders slumping, she uttered a mirthless laugh. "I don't understand you! You tell me to come ask you just how 'imaginative' you were about what you showed me this morning, and now you're trying to force me to talk feelings with Remus. Just  _what_ is it you want?"

Sirius' features pinched uncomfortably as he let out a sigh. "I actually don't know. I didn't even expect to be here, if you'll recall. I think coming back through the Veil is messing with my perceptions a bit."

Uttering a scoffing sound, she gave a nod. "I'm inclined to agree."

"But . . . ."

Hermione arched a brow as she echoed the word. "But?"

Holding her gaze, his blue-grey eyes took on a heated look that stole her breath as he said, "But I think what I want—well, one of the things I want—is you."

At his confession, her skin heated and she felt the thrum of her own pulse beneath her skin. "Oh?" she managed in a mildly strangled tone.

He nodded. "There's another  _but_."

"Oh," she said again, laughing in spite of herself. " Go on, then."

Sirius' expression grew uncharacteristically, well,  _serious_ , as he said, "I don't want to come between you and Remus if he's what you really want."

"I . . . ." She let her voice trail off as some spark in his gaze—something that was both mischievous and flirtatious, in a way that put the Sirius she remembered to shame—caught her attention. Caught her attention and seemed to reel her in, somehow, because she couldn't help the way she gaped up at him, her breath catching in her throat as she waited for him to share whatever more he might be thinking.

Running the tip of his tongue along his lips, he glanced back toward the table. Oh, poor Remus, looking so very lonely over there as he kept darting his gaze over to the corner into which they'd disappeared, all while attempting not to appear as though he was trying to watch them.

Returning his attention to her, Sirius disappeared behind the pillar as he leaned into her. God, he adored the startled, shivering gasp that she drew in to find herself pinned by his body. Adored the flush of color in her fair cheeks as she stared up at him unblinking.

She knew she found his forwardness a little alarming, but she could not deny being wildly curious. She couldn't deny being intrigued to have this sort of attention from Sirius Black focused on her.

"I want you to want Remus," he said, his voice low and gentle, the pitch almost a purring sound. "But I've also just realized what it is that  _I_  want. And I . . . I think it somehow ties into whatever it is that's been changed about me when I was behind the Veil. I don't think I'm human, anymore Hermione. Truly."

Hermione forced a gulp down her throat, having trouble focusing on his words, the movement of his lips as he spoke utterly enthralling. "Oh? What, um, what is it you think you returned as?"

He shrugged and, pressed so close to her, she could feel the shifting of his muscles through his clothes at that movement. "Some . . . some sort of, I dunno, maybe an incubus spirit, or something?"

Her brows shot up, though she wondered if his line of thinking made sense, given that there was some back corner of her mind that was picturing climbing him right here and now. Nodding as she tried to control her breathing and the over-eager imagining of her own subconscious, she said, "Could . . . could be."

"Maybe that's why I thought what I did when I touched you this morning. Was literally the first idea that popped into my head. Why it felt like it did."

"How's it . . . ?" Shaking her head, she tried again, hyper-aware of his body pressed to hers, of his warm breath whispering over her mouth and making the delicate skin of her lips tingle. "How's that tie into knowing what you want?"

He smirked, mirth dancing in the depths of his gaze. "I realized it as I said the words."

"I don't understand. What words?"

Sirius lifted his hand to cup her jaw. Watching the movement of his own finger, he traced her lips with the edge of his thumb as he answered. "Just now, when I said I don't want to come between you and Remus." Deep down some part of him was screaming. Raging at himself not to tell her this—that to share this feeling would scare her off. Yet, he couldn't seem to stop himself. Not with the way she was staring up at him like this, those large chestnut eyes blinking drowsily and her mouth open ever so slightly in quick, shallow breaths.

She didn't know quite when, but at some point, she'd raised her hands. The flat of her palms pressed to his chest, but not to push him away, rather to curl her fingers into the fabric of his robes and keep him close.

Finally, pushing himself to clarify, he leaned nearer, still. His face over her shoulder, his lips brushing her ear, and every fiber of his being adoring the way she shivered against him, he whispered, "I was wrong. Soon as I said the words, I knew I was wrong, because coming between you and Remus is _exactly_  what I want."


End file.
